


Hidden Friendships and Lovers Tattoos

by eatamilkbone



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angry Ron, Cute, Falling In Love, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, One Shot, Sneaking, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-13
Updated: 2019-05-13
Packaged: 2020-03-02 16:44:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18814930
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eatamilkbone/pseuds/eatamilkbone
Summary: Harry and Draco spend all their time together in Eighth year, from friends to lovers with tattoos in between.





	Hidden Friendships and Lovers Tattoos

“You’re out here alone,” Harry says to Draco from behind him. Draco stands at the edge of the Quidditch pitch under a waxing moon, his back to the school. “I have seen you out here every night for weeks.”

Draco turns, shrugs and turns back. The fight has gone out of him.

“Here,” Harry says as he walks up to Draco and stands behind him. He hands him a silver flask. “Want some?”

Draco sniffs the open flask and takes a sip. “Nice quality,” Draco responds and then in a voice he tries to make sound haughty he says, “Would be better served in crystal.”

“Okay,” Harry jokes, “wait here and I’ll go grab one of those crystal vases from the display cabinets on the fourth floor.”

Draco scoffs. “Why are you here?”

“I thought you might want company,” Harry replies, taking the flask back from Draco.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll leave.” Harry waits for Draco to tell him to leave, but Draco doesn’t and so Harry stays. “You’re too thin.”

Draco laughs. “If you came here to insult me, you have achieved it.”

Harry blushes and shakes his head. “Sorry, what I mean to say is... are you okay?”

“Tell you what,” Draco smirks, “I’ll tell you all about it if you manage to get some crystal glasses and Ogdens Finest by Wednesday next week.”

Draco turns and walks away.

.

.

.

Wednesday comes, and Harry has achieved his goal. When he sees Draco approach the Quidditch pitch ritualistically, he sees Draco look around for him. “Up here!” Harry shouts from the stands across the pitch. Harry waves.

Draco walks, climbs the stands and sits next to Harry. “Did you do it?” 

Harry beams. “Of course I did...” he hands a glass to Draco. “Did even better than Ogdens.”

He shows Draco the bottle. Draco’s eyebrows nearly touch his hairline in response. “You got Finland Bissel?” He shakes his head and shouts out a laugh almost frightening Harry. “Of course you did... you’re Harry Bloody Potter!”

Harry nods. “Pour some then,” he says and hands Draco a glass.

.

.

.

Draco smiles conspiratorially at Harry during Defence. Harry smiles back. 

Harry stops seeing Hermione and Ron as much, only in part due to his nightly meetings with Draco on the Quidditch pitch. Ron and Hermione have withdrawn too, spending time together alone as couples are want to do.

“It’s stupid to think that just because we went through all that together,” Harry tells Malfoy one night, “that we would always do everything together.”

“So you’re not in a three-way?” Draco jibes.

Harry balks. “With Ron?! No fucking way.”

“Ahh... so you would if it was just Granger?”

Harry looks at him dangerously. He sips his whiskey. “You don’t know... do you?”

Draco sneers. “Know what, Potter?”

“Nevermind,” Harry replies before sighing.

“Potter, tell me. Don’t leave me pondering this mystery.”

“Let’s just say that Ginny is not my type.”

“Right...” Draco says, confused.

“It’s bed time,” Harry stands, “are you coming?”

“Sure, sure,” Draco says.

.

.

.

Harry and Draco sneak down the passageway and into Honeyduke’s. “Take a couple of things,” Harry encourages. “No one will notice a few sweets gone.”

“Potter,” Draco hisses, “what’s gotten into you?”

“Shh!”

Harry goes to a container and charms the lid off before dipping his hand in and pulling out his desired catch. Draco watches in astonishment.

“You got some?” Harry asks. Draco shakes his head. “Fuck it, come on,” he takes Draco in a side-along apparation stance and spirits them away to Grimmauld Place.

.

.

.

“Have you lost your mind?” Draco asks Harry, looking around the dusty, cold living room.

“Possibly. I’ve died twice.”

Draco rolls his eyes. “Bragging.”

“Am not,” Harry disputes, putting his stolen goods down on a scourgified table. 

Draco laughs. “Is this how Dark Wizards start turning from the light? Stealing sweets and sneaking out of school on a school night?”

“I didn’t get to ask Voldemort that,” Harry jokes, “maybe we should channel his spirit and ask him?”

“You’re a sick man, Potter,” Draco replies, sitting down by the table and picking up a sugar mouse and biting it’s head off happily.

.

.

.

They have single occupant rooms in the Eighth-Year dorms, which is why Draco and Harry are now spending the cold wintry months holed up at night in one or the other’s rooms. Maybe people have noticed... maybe not. Harry can’t say, as he is never often seen any more apart from in classes.

The first night Draco falls asleep in Harry’s bed heralds the first time Harry sneaks down at six in the morning to the kitchens to get Draco some chocolate cake for breakfast. “You need it,” he tells Draco. “I could feel your bones poking into me all night.”

“You let me sleep here?” Draco asks softly.

“Yeah... what’s the problem with that?”

Draco just smiles.

.

.

.

There’s barely any boundaries between them any more, so glued to the hip as they are. It has become common knowledge now that they spend a lot of time together, but they keep the depths of their friendship hidden from plain sight where possible. It seems no one wants to unpick it and analyse it, and so they get away with it without too much interception.

Except from Hermione, who corners Harry and demands he tell her why he is suddenly absent all the time.

“Just having fun,” he tells her.

“With Malfoy...” she finishes for him. “Isn’t this all a bit dangerous?”

Harry guffaws. “Maybe.” He skirts around her and is gone from her sight.

.

.

.

Their lack of boundaries means they see each other in various states of being. Never quite naked though. Enough, however, that Harry asks Draco about the light grey Dark Mark on his forearm as he runs a hand over the flesh. “When did it fade?”

“Straight after.”

“Why didn’t it go completely?”

“Reminder of the shit I did, probably.”

“Doesn’t seem fair.”

Draco shrugs.

“Why not get something to cover it?”

“Trust me, I’ve thought about it.”

“Well come on, let’s go do it.”

Draco smirks mischievously up at Harry. “We have Potions.”

“Tonight then, after classes. We will head out to London and find you the best tattoo artist to cover it up.”

“Harry, you’re mad!” Draco exclaims with delight, standing to meet Harry almost eye-to-eye. “I absolutely love it.”

They both still for a while. “Eh, fuck it,” Harry says to break the tension, “It’s Friday... they can’t stop us doing what we want on the weekend, can they?”

“I suppose not,” Draco agrees, pulling his shirt on.

.

.

.

They pick up the designs from the Muggle postal exchange in Hogsmeade three weeks later. Too eager to wait until they get back to Hogwarts, they open the large envelopes and stare at the designs. “Wow...” Draco breathes.

“Awesome,” Harrys states as if nothing else could describe his design of a phoenix with a captured snitch in it’s claw that he plans on having wrapped around his left forearm. He looks at Draco’s red dragon that is drawn to curve around his own left forearm similarly to Harry’s; the dragon is accompanied by a snitch that is intended to sit on the flat plane of his arm below his elbow.

Harry notices on the snitch there is a lightning bolt etched into the metal.

.

.

.

It’s time, Harry thinks as they make their way to the Muggle hotel room silently. Their arms are swollen and their pride is elevated, as if something in their self esteem had been confirmed by the ink in their skin.

“That was a long day,” Draco says as he sits on the only bed in the room. Harry kicks off his shoes and unwraps the cling film from his arm, marvelling in the finished design. “Only taken weeks to do it,” he observes.

“Totally worth it.”

Harry, he tells himself, it’s time.

But Harry ignores the voice in his head for now. 

It takes a muggle film and some exaggerated yawning, teeth brushing on both their parts, and Harry’s exponential growth of nerves for him to settle into bed on his back whilst Draco prepares to lay down himself, and one more It’s time before the world falls away from him.

“I’m in love with you,” he tells Draco, looking up to the ceiling. Moments pass. 10 seconds, 15 seconds. Harry finally turns his head to Draco.

Draco is standing, holding his glass of water aloft in front of his chest, frozen in place. 

“Merlin, I’ve fucked everything up, haven’t I?” Harry groans, hiding his face beneath his hands. He tenses uncontrollably.

“Okay, I get it now,” Draco says knowingly in a soft, tempered voice. “You asked me, didn’t you, whether I knew or not... and I get it now.”

Harry feels as if his insides have turned to an electric current sitting in a viscous conductor. He’s vibrating with shame, want, adrenalin and fearlessness. He is conflicted, too, by a strong need to apologise. He does so. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re gay?”

Harry groans. “Yes.”

“Wow...” Draco sits down on the bed. “Woooww...”

Harry gulps, and sits up on the bed. “Merlin, I’m sorry. I just couldn’t keep it in any more. It’s been eating me up for months now. You sleep in my bed, we do almost everything together, I don’t want to be with anyone else. I love you... so much. And I’m sorry.”

“Harry,” Draco tries.

Harry’s heart is racing.

“Harry?”

“What?”

“Do you want to move in together?”

“What?!”

“We practically live together now... we could stay living together after Hogwarts. Just... be together.”

“I am so confused,” Harry admits, standing up. He catches a glimpse of his arm in the mirror opposite the bed and feels suddenly guilty for getting caught up in the wild, electrically charged rumpus that is his and Draco’s friendship. 

Draco walks to him. “Why are you confused?”

Harry rolls his eyes. Draco pulls him towards him by the shoulders.

“You know we’re right together. We’re already together. You and I,” Draco tells him softly, “have been in love for a long time now. You know it. You must know how I feel about you.”

“I don’t,” Harry chokes, “I have no idea. Every time I think you’re going to kiss me, it doesn’t happen. And I can’t seem to be the one to kiss you either. And I wake up every morning wrapped around you but then you get out of bed so fast it hurts.”

“Every time I think you’re going to kiss me you don’t do it!” Draco returns. He’s still holding Harry’s shoulders, slumped in defeat. “I think we are just scared,” Draco offers, “I think this means too much to us.”

“I’m in love with you. There it is. I’m in love with you.”

Draco leans his forehead against Harry’s. “I’m in love with you too,” he kisses Harry softly, “some days I think I might have always been in love with you.”

.

.

.

It becomes harder to hide what’s happening between them. As the days heat up, Harry decides to inadvertently reveal to his friends the tattoo, when he takes off his jumper and rolls his shirt sleeves up to the elbow.

Hermione squawks. Ron says a low, long “Coooool!”

Hermione swats Ron’s arm. “What. Is. That?” She asks, pointing at the tattoo.

“It’s a tattoo,” Harry replies, scowling. “Why?”

“Uh... well...” Hermione splutters. “Because it’s... you didn’t tell us... what is going on with you, Harry?”

Harry just laughs. Ron high fives him. Harry sees Draco across the lake all alone, and stands, paying his friends very little mind before he bids them goodbye and walks into the castle. Draco rises and he too goes into the castle just a short while later. 

 

.

.

.

Harry is straddling Draco. They pant from their kisses, long and slow and eager as they had been. “I’m still not ready,” Draco admits.

“It’s fine,” Harry replies, getting off him. “I’ll wait.”

Draco laughs, and pulls Harry back. “I’m not ready for everything,” Draco explains, “but I am ready for some things.”

“And what would they be?” Harry asks, watching in awe as Draco unbuttons his shirt underneath Harry.

“Undo my belt buckle... yeah, that’s it... you can take my trousers off if you want...”

“I do want, yes.”

“Uh... I’m embarrassed,” Draco admits, throwing his arm over his face. Harry vibrates in ecstasy looking at that branded snitch.

Draco’s erection is outlined in his boxers. Harry can’t take his eyes off it. “Why?”

“Can you get naked too?”

“Fuck yes,” Harry says as he jumps off the bed and strips. Draco peeks out from under his arm, sees Harry stood in his own boxers, and sits on the edge of the bed.

“Here,” he demands. Harry walks between Draco’s legs. “Off,” Draco further demands, pulling Harry’s boxers off. Harry’s boner bounces as it is freed.

“Now you,” Harry tells Draco, who awkwardly shifts and shuffles to get his own off from a seated position.

“I don’t know what to do,” Draco admits.

“Lie back,” Harry tells him. Harry then comes to lay next to Draco on the single bed in Harry’s room. He lays on his side, runs his hand down Draco’s body and over Draco’s dick. “I have some idea of what you might like,” Harry purrs.

Harry’s grip on Draco’s dick is firm and he bring Draco off slowly. “I’m leaving you out,” Draco moans. 

“How about...” Harry shifts so he is over Draco, Draco’s dick still in his hand. “How about now... can you grab me now?”

Draco nods. He does so. And Harry watches how Draco was already keening with just Harry’s hand around his dick but now, with Harry’s dick in his own hand, he’s been taken to a level Harry never knew existed. He shares the same experience.

After that, they feel bonded forever.

.

.

.

“So you’ll never guess what,” Ron seethes as he joins Hermione and Harry at the dinner table on the rare occasion that Harry appears in the Great Hall.

“What, Ron?” Hermione asks, surprised.

“Seamus just told me that he saw Draco Malfoy sporting some tattoo on his left arm over his dark mark!”

Ron looks livid at Harry. There’s silence all around them.

“What the fuck are you and Malfoy up too?” Ron spits. “You’ve been hanging around with that prick for months now... thinking we don’t notice... it’s like you’re a different man. It feels like you’ve lost your mind. You are never around and now...” he points at Harry’s arm, “it seems suspicious that you and Malfoy have matching, fucking, tattoos.”

“Is that right, Harry?” Hermione asks quietly. “Matching tattoos?”

“They’re not matching,” Harry says quietly. He stands and walks from the room.

He hears Hermione chide Ron with, “If you want him to talk to us, you can’t shout at him!”

.

.

.

It’s time, Harry thinks to himself the next day. He asks Draco to meet him by the lake where Ron and Hermione have taken to studying in the sunshine during free periods. There is an assembled cast of characters that have joined Ron and Hermione, and they are all silently studying as Harry approaches.

He sits down, doesn’t say a word and waits. 

He’s asked Draco to come with his sleeves rolled up. Asked him to trust him.

Harry’s not studying, and it’s beginning to be noticed by the group. Harry ignores them, instead favouring watching for Draco who, when he approaches, looks nervous as hell.

Draco comes to sit opposite Harry on the other side of the mess of Seventh and Eighth years. “Draco,” Harry asks loudly, generating attention. “Can you pass me your notes from Potions?”

Draco rummages in his bag, pulls out the parchment asked for, and hands it to Harry from his left hand. Harry takes the parchment using his left hand and Harry knows Ron is watching.

“Nice tattoo,” Harry says, smirking at Draco. The whole crowd is watching now, disturbed from their study.

“You think?” Draco replies, suppressing his smile. “See... it has this nice little lightning bolt on the snitch here!” He makes a point of exaggeratedly showing Harry the snitch. Draco is nervously shaking.

“Mine has a nice etching of the letters DM on it,” Harry smiles playfully. “See...” Harry twists his arm around.

Draco stalls. “What?” he whispers. “When did you...?”

“This morning,” Harry shows Draco. “What do you think?”

“I think I’m in love with you,” Draco whispers.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Ron says loudly. His tone is playful, and resigned to whatever is happening with his friend and his enemy.

“They’re really cool,” Dean says, ogling Harry’s and then Draco’s.

“I got a tattoo too,” Seamus joins in. “It’s on me arse though.”

“Oh get it out,” Dean encourages. “It’s hilarious!”

Harry looks at Draco. ‘I love you’ he mouths.

‘I love you too’ Draco mouths back.

.

.

.

“Hey baby, how was your day?” Harry asks, five years later. 

Draco saunters into the room, throwing his robes over the sofa and coming to kiss his husband. “I’m an Unspeakable, my love... my day is always exciting.”

“Show off.”

“Says the star Auror.”

“Go on,” Draco demands, “upstairs. It’s been ages since I’ve had you.”

Harry does not protest.


End file.
